Sunshine
by lefcadio
Summary: Sho is persuaded to visit a certain someone. Postmovie.


Tonight, they don't even notice when the moon comes out. Like every other autumn evening that's passed by, the sky is dark and clear; the air, crisp and cool. The slow-moving river that passes by the apartment block appears black and inky, and it drowns the already-dead, dry leaves which flutter down to its surface. Kei is sitting on the embankment beneath a tree; though he's sprawled out there remains a strange tenseness in the way he sets his shoulders, and in the way he tilts his head up to face the sky. The grass is glistening with fresh dew, and Kei's trousers are gradually becoming soaked - but, it seems, he either doesn't notice, or doesn't care.

"Oi," a familiar voice calls out, somewhat petulantly, "what're you doing out here?"

A lazy half-smile slips onto Kei's lips, but somehow it doesn't reach his eyes. He doesn't turn around; instead, focuses on the spidery black branches reaching out above him. Even though it's night, they are still silhouetted against the sky - but then, the city's light pollution makes that inevitable.

Soft footsteps, shuffling through the grass. A figure slumps down beside him, trying to appear careless.

"Look... about earlier..." The voice trails off, and the only sounds are those of the river, and the faint, ever-present humming of traffic.

The smile disappears from Kei's face, and he turns. Sho is sitting less than a foot away, long legs outstretched and shoulders slumped. He looks utterly depressed, and Kei feels his chest ache; he wants to reach out and take Sho in his arms, to comfort him as he has done so many times before. But he does not. He remains silent, and does not relent.

"I think..." Sho sits up a little straighter as he begins to talk; though hesitant, his voice is still strong and clear, and he's staring into the river with an intensity that makes it seem as though he can see into the black depths. He pauses again, and then turns to face Kei. "I think I'll go and see her."

Their eyes meet, and all of a sudden there's that sudden flash of warmth; that connection - Sho's expression is set and determined, and Kei just studies him, leaning forward a little as the tension eases out of him.

"I'm glad."

Those two words are all it takes; Sho's face breaks out into a grin, and Kei can't help but smile softly in return. It's always been this way: Sho's moods are infectious, and his smiles are Kei's sunshine. Without warning, Sho's hand is on his face, cupping his jaw and running a thumb lightly over his lower lip. He exhales shakily, and Sho is gone. He always had been impulsive.

It's dawn when he next sees Sho again: the curtains of their apartment are tightly closed, but the warm glow of the lamps suffuses the rooms with their manufactured light. Kei tries to pretend that he hasn't been waiting uncomfortably, doing little but sitting and hoping that everything was going alright. But he's up out of the chair the moment he hears the door open, and Sho finds him waiting expectantly, arms folded and leaning against the bedroom doorway. Kei remains silent, suddenly apprehensive that perhaps this was a terrible idea, and that maybe he should never have persuaded Sho to go through with it.

But as soon as the door has clicked shut, Sho is striding forward and pulling Kei to him in a crushing embrace, head bowed, murmuring soft and hurried words against Kei's neck. For the moment, Kei is content, even though it's impossible to make out what Sho is saying. He rests his hands on the other man's back, and closes his eyes as the tight coil of worry that had settled in his stomach unravels.

Eventually, Sho lifts his head and sets his hands on Kei's shoulders, biting his lower lip thoughtfully before beginning to speak:

"I had never forgiven myself, you know." The silence stretches on, pregnant with unspoken worries and regrets. But Kei knows; had always known. It was inevitable. "For leaving her, that is."

"You only did what you had to do. That's what you've always done."

Sho smiles a little sadly at this, his hands unconsciously gripping Kei's shoulders more tightly, "perhaps. But it was cowardly of me, and I've always regretted it. You... Kei, it was you who took care of her; helped Hana grow up into who she is today. And I... wasn't a part of that." Kei finds himself shaking his head, but is stopped by Sho's fingers on his mouth. "No, Kei... I know I watched her sometimes. I checked on her. But... it's not the same, and I missed it for my own selfish reasons."

But there's a happy kind of peace in Sho's eyes, and Kei can see it. "But even though you can't forgive yourself, it's somehow still alright - because Hana forgives you, doesn't she." It's not a question, and Kei watches the gentle curve of Sho's lips as he smiles.

"Yes."

And for a moment, nothing more is said. Sho retreats a little, and Kei follows him into the living room. Sitting down with his head on one hand, Sho looks contemplative, the light from the small lamp beside him casting a soft glow across his face. "I always thought that she'd hate me for what I did; for abandoning her. But..." Kei smiles, and sits down beside Sho, who turns to face him and takes one of his hands. "She has her mother's kindness. And yours. Thank you, Kei."

Kei is abruptly very aware of Sho's proximity and warmth, and of the strong hand grasping his own.

The room may be small, the light may be artificial, and this perfect peace may only be temporary - but for the moment, as Sho's face lights up with a grin, Kei feels as though he's bathed in sunlight. And he could not be more content.


End file.
